


True Colors

by tifaching



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M, Male Slash, Recreational Drug Use, Slash, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifaching/pseuds/tifaching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pure and total crack.  Castiel and Balthazar go on a roadtrip to discover their inner peacocks.  Sam's in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Dean's just awesome.  And Andy would have been thrilled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Colors

“Hmph.”

“Hmph?”

Balthazar looks at Castiel and sighs. “Hmph. A sound expressing thought, or consideration.”

“You are considering this vehicle?”

Balthazar completes his circuit of the van, pausing to admire the barbarian queen riding the polar bear. “Oh, I’m more than considering it. This is definitely… how would Dean put it? Our ride.”

“We will not be inconspicuous in this,” and Castiel’s missing the point so badly that he’s practically in a semi-circle.

“Inconspicuous is not what we’re after here, brother. We’re on a journey of discovery. “

“I’ve already discovered far more than I’m comfortable with lately. Did you have some specific quest in mind?”

Balthazar looks Castiel up and down and stops short of rolling his eyes. He grasps the sleeve of the hideous tan trench coat and in the blink of an eye they’re halfway across the country on the grounds of a spacious estate. They rematerialize in the middle of a flock of birds, who continue to peck at the ground, oblivious to the sudden appearance of angels in their midst.

Castiel gazes imperturbably at the birds before raising a questioning eyebrow. “We are on a quest for avian life forms?”

“Not just any avian life forms, my sartorially challenged friend. We are on a quest for the regal peacock.” Balthazar sweeps his arm in an encompassing gesture. “And we have found him.”

“It would appear that our quest is complete. I had anticipated it taking a bit longer.”

“No, no, no.” A despairing headshake is the best Balthazar can manage. “Our quest is not complete. Not until we take the peacock into ourselves.”

“I do not eat poultry.”

“Not literally into ourselves …” Balthazar calms himself with effort, “figuratively into ourselves.” He waves his arms and the flock startles, tail feather popping open as far as the eye can see. They’re gorgeous, flashy and unexpectedly breathtaking. “We’re…well, you more so than I, a little drab in comparison. I can’t see two such powerful beings as ourselves being outdone by a strutting peafowl.”

Another blink has them back at the van and Castiel’s brow furrows in thought. A moment later, his trenchcoat is bright blue with iridescent circles of green, orange and gold decorating it.

“It’s a good start,” Balthazar encourages, “we’ll work on internalizing it as we go.”

The van’s not the success one of them at least hoped it would be, but Balthazar manages to score quite often. Castiel seems to get the idea, but whenever his contact with a willing partner reaches the climbing in the back of the van phase of the evening, his coat begins to flash peacock tail feather eyes. He can’t quite understand why his beautiful plumage fails to attract the proper response, and Balthazar is usually too busy laughing to explain.

Castiel is beginning to understand, though. He’s got more color inside him now than any hundred peacocks. He’s just not sure what to do with it yet. Balthazar’s more certain. He’s getting lucky almost every single night and he uses only peacock wiles to get it done. Their voyage of discovery is going remarkably well until the day they run into one Samuel Winchester.

 

In addition to his coat of many colors and his swirling, multihued aura, Castiel has taken a fancy to certain other psychedelic substances. Balthazar should have known better than to let Cas park the van while he was under the influence of a potent concoction of peyote and cannabis, but a gorgeous blonde beckoning from the doorway of the bar sent good sense out the window. How even an angel as fucked up as Cas was could have missed the Impala parked two cars down remains a mystery that may never be solved.

Castiel is exiting the van, his coat lighting the parking lot with muted blues and golds, when he spots Sam. It’s too late to hide, not to mention that it’s impossible anyway, so Castiel doesn’t bother. Sam’s head is down, intent on his cell phone, and there’s a moment when Cas thinks he’ll just walk on by. It’s too much to hope for and Cas can’t believe he actually thought it might happen. Nothing in his history with the Winchesters suggests any such luck.

Sam looks up and his eyes widen as his cell phone falls unnoticed to the ground. Iridescent colors flare in his irises and he drops to his knees, face contorted in pain.

“The colors…please make it stop,” he moans, and Cas is both stunned and gratified that Sam can see his inner peacock. Sam’s hands grip his skull, tiny pinpricks of blood begin to trickle from every inch of exposed skin and Castiel thinks that perhaps it’s just as well that he’s never gotten anyone into the back of the van. He’ll have to ask Balthazar if his inner poultry attacks when someone catches a glimpse of it.

The angel’s mind isn’t following any sort of linear progression, but the longer he looks at Sam, writhing and bleeding on the ground, the more he thinks that he should be on the lookout for something. Someone. Some Dean. He casts an eye around the parking lot, but there’s no denim clad nightmare headed his way.

Getting a bleeding, disoriented Winchester somewhere where an intact, fully functional (Cas has to force his mind back to the subject at hand, here)Winchester can’t spot him is the first order of business, so Castiel zaps Sam into the back of the van. He fluffs one of Balthazar’s silk covered pillows and props it under the wounded man’s head. Sam’s eyes are practically spinning in their sockets and Cas isn’t in much better shape, so he decides that reinforcements are in order.

He pops himself into the bar, but remains invisible while he scans, somewhat thoroughly, for Sam’s ~~gorgeous~~ overprotective big brother. There’s no sign of him, so he materializes in Balthazar’s booth, squeezing in between the other angel and his date.

“Ah, there you are. I thought perhaps you’d gotten lost.” Balthazar’s tone is just a trifle sharp. His brother’s forays into recreational drug use aren’t something he sees the need for. “Madeleine, here, has a friend who would be perfect for you….”

“There’s a Winchester in the back of the van.” Castiel cuts Balthazar off, and grabs his arm, trying unsuccessfully to pull him from his seat.

Balthazar’s eyebrows climb and he sends his most irritating smirk Castiel’s way. “Finally making your move, are you? Well, I must say it’s about time.” He turns to his date. “I’m afraid your friend will have to make other plans tonight. Castiel’s going to consummate…”

“It’s Sam. He saw my inner peacock and had some sort of seizure. Then, I believe, it pecked him. He’s bleeding and his eyes look like the aurora borealis. I felt it was better that Dean not see him that way, so I took the liberty of secreting him in the van.”

“Dean’s here?” Balthazar’s eyes scour the bar far more thoroughly than Castiel had managed, but if the older Winchester is there, neither angel can spot him. He lifts the blonde’s hand and presses a kiss to it. “I’m so sorry to cut our evening short, my dear, but it’s possible that someone will be here shortly that it would not be in our best interests to run into.” He pauses for a moment, then smiles. “But if you should happen to run into this man,” he projects a picture of Dean into her mind,” he’ll show you almost as good a time as I would have. And if you can keep him off of our trail for a few hours, I would be most grateful.”

In moments, they’re back in the van, kneeling on either side of Sam, who’s bleeding onto the leopard print sheets. It’s not just his hands; red is seeping through his clothes in numerous locations. The angels glance at each other helplessly, then a bottle appears in Castiel’s hand.

“I have seen Dean take these when he is in pain,” he says, shaking half a dozen aspirin into his palm. A flask of water appears next and Castiel gently tilts Sam’s head toward him.

“You should close your eyes,” he murmurs as Sam huffs in pain. Sam obeys with a moan and Cas tips the aspirin into his mouth, following it up with a few gulps of water. “These will help your head. I think.”

Sam relaxes back onto the pillow with a sigh and a supersized tube of bacitracin springs into being beside him. Cas dabs it on the cuts on Sam’s hands and face, then looks dubiously at the red stains dotting his clothing.

“Do you think…” he mutters doubtfully.

“No I do not.” Balthazar is extremely certain. “I’m positive that we don’t want Dean catching up to us and finding his brother stark naked in the back of our van. Now, if we want to postpone that moment as long as possible, I suggest we, as they say, hit the road.”

Castiel finds himself alone in the back with Sam as the van lurches to a start and accelerates out of the parking lot. They’re twenty miles down the road when he pops into the front next to Balthazar.

“We should accept the inevitable and make it easier on ourselves by just bringing him here. He’ll be much less of a thorn in our sides if we do that.”

“You mean much less of a pain in our asses? You’re probably right. Why don’t you just go and get him?”

“Me? I was thinking that you should go and get him.”

“Well, I’m driving aren’t I? Can’t very well pop off and leave no one behind the wheel.”

“You can.”

“Yes, well I don’t want to. So, off you go. I know how you go into withdrawal when you don’t see him for too long.”

Castiel give Balthazar a level look, but he goes, rematerializing in the parking lot of the bar to the dulcet tones of Dean yelling his brother’s name. Dean’s got Sam’s phone, so there’s no way to pretend that everything’s a okay and that Sam just decided to come for a ride with them.

Castiel clears his throat and Dean whips around, gun pointed at the angel’s chest. His eyes narrow and the gun drops as he takes in the swirling colors of the formerly drab trenchcoat. Castiel knows what the coat looks like and he tries unsuccessfully to mute it back to tan as he sees the laughter start to build.

Dean doesn’t even get the “what” of his “what the fuck, Cas?” out before he has a finger jabbed into the middle of his forehead and he’s stretched out beside his brother, flat on his stomach in what looks like the back of Andy Gallagher’s van.

“Sammy?” Dean gently shakes his brother and Sam slowly opens his eyes. Dean swallows back a groan at the sight of the colors still swirling in Sam’s irises and picks at his blood stained shirt. “What did those dicks do to you?”

“Hmmm. Castiel is a peacock.”

“I noticed.”

“The colors went in my mind. Just floated in. Then they pecked me. Hurts a little.”

Dean’s gaze takes in the back of the van, surveys and catalogues all he sees, then turns back to his brother. “Uh, huh. So tell me, Sam. Did you maybe help yourself to a little angelic weed? ‘Cause it sure seems like there’s plenty back here.”

“Nope.” Sam sounds certain. “I think the peacock might have been stoned though.”

“It might,” Dean agrees. Then he gently tugs at Sam’s shirt, “Can you sit up a little for me, Sammy? Looks like those fucking birds got you in some hard to reach places.”

Sam raises up off the pillow and Dean slides the shirt over his head. He whistles softly and swears under his breath. Then he bangs on the panel behind the front of the van.

“Hey! I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you two and your peacocks, and I don’t want to know. I need some more water and some clean towels back here and I need them right now.”

The supplies appear immediately and Castiel’s plaintive voice follows. “Are you sure you don’t want to know?”

“Positive.” Dean shuts anything else the angel has to say out and Balthazar gives Castiel a sympathetic look.

Dean eases Sam out of his pants too, and continues his muttering at the sheer number of times Sam’s skin has been pierced by virtual angelic peacock beaks. “Okay, hold still now, this might take a while.”

“Kay,” Sam slurs agreeably and begins to sigh in pleasure and Dean’s hands roam his body. “Oh, yeah Dean. Right there feels good.”

Dean stares as each blemish the ointment touches immediately disappears and Sam’s moans of contentment begin to dissipate Dean’s annoyance and jump start a whole different dynamic. Sam’s hand traces Dean’s face and grips the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss.

“Feeling a little better there, are you kiddo?”

“M hm,” Sam replies, nuzzling at his brother’s neck. His hand slides down and fumbles with the snap of Dean’s jeans. “Come on, Dean. Get naked with me. “

“Think the peacock might still be a little stoned, Sam.”

“So?”

“There are angels in the front seat.”

“Dicks.”

“We’re in the back of Andy’s van.”

“He loved gay porn. He’d be thrilled. If he knew, he’d be broadcasting us all over the world.”

That’s the only statement Sam’s made that Dean takes issue with, but since Andy’s not around to broadcast anything, he shrugs and gets naked with Sam. Stoned Sam is handsy and strong and he pulls Dean on top of him and anchors him there by wrapping his legs around his brother’s waist.

“Umph,” Dean grunts. “Haven’t done this in a while.”

“Nope,” Sam smiles, reaching a hand down to guide Dean to where he needs him to be.

The disco ball begins to rotate above them, bathing their bodies in peacock hues. Soft music comes from surround sound speakers and Dean bangs on the partition again.

“What the hell!”

“Just trying to create a mood,” Balthazar yells back.

“Fuck you!” Dean replies.

“Me?” Cas calls hopefully.

“No!” comes in stereo from both Winchesters. No more words come from the back, but there’s definitely not silence.

In the front, Balthazar turns to Castiel. “They do know they’re brothers, don’t they?”

“It doesn’t seem to matter,” Cas replies dejectedly.

A few hours pass and the activity in the back of the van hasn’t slowed down at all. Balthazar glances at Castiel who’s staring woodenly out the windshield.

“Sam seems to have made a full recovery.”

“So it would seem.”

“Why do you suppose your peacock reacted that way to him?”

“I have no idea.”

So, Balthazar thinks, his brother has learned to lie. He shakes his head and Sam and Dean hit the bed in their motel room so hard that they bounce.

Dean grins up into the empty air. “That was awesome! Do it again!”

There’s another whoosh and their clothes slam into the foot of the bed. Sam’s eyes are clear and his body unblemished except for the marks Dean’s put on him in the last few hours. Dean’s still sprawled between Sam’s legs, kissing him lazily. Just before he drops off to sleep, he remembers.

“Stoned peacocks?”

“I don’t know. But yeah. Stoned peacocks.”

Balthazar and Cas drive on into the night. Castiel’s coat is still muted, and Balthazar glances at him in concern.

“You know you are never getting between those two.”

Cas lets out a choked breath. “Between…..” he murmurs. Then he stares at Balthazar. “I know.”

A joint appears in Castiel’s hand and Balthazar winces at the acrid waft of chemicals that should never be mixed. He opens a window and waves his hand, trying to avoid getting high.

Castiel smokes in silence, Balthazar’s complaints not even registering. After an hour or so, he lets out a gasp and turns to the angel in the driver’s seat.

“If I were God….he’d worship me.”

The van swerves as Balthazar stares at his brother in shock. “You’ve met Dean Winchester, have you? And what do you think Sam’s going to do about you poaching his brother. And you’re not God. Perish the thought.”

Castiel can’t perish it, though. It seems like the perfect solution. It’ll take some doing. A lot of doing actually. But the end result will be worth it. Dean will be his and if Sam knows what’s good for him, he won’t get in the way. Glowy peacock eyes spring out over Cas’ trenchcoat. Pecked to death is not a good way to go.


End file.
